Coming Home
by echo6951
Summary: Freija, a Nord, has spent the last several years in Elsweyr, only to return to find the war that rages in her homeland has escalated. Companions questline. Eventual F!DB x Vilkas.
1. Chapter 1

Cursing softly, Freija brushed her pale blonde hair out of her face and readjusted the heavy war hammer on her back, lessening the pull of the straps digging into her shoulders. Ralof casted her a sidelong glance tinged with concern.

"You all right, kinsman?"

"Fine."

She wasn't much for complaining. In all honestly though, the weight of the war hammer was taking its toll on her weakened form. She hadn't eaten in days and her muscles were sore from swinging the unfamiliar weapon. The fact that the cold wind cut through her Stormcloak cuirass and chilled her to her bones wasn't helping either. It had been a long time since she had last been in her homeland. She had grown used to Elsweyr with its sunny weather and warm sands, and Skyrim was far colder than she remembered.

Hugging her cuirass closer, she set her jaw and pushed the thoughts of Elsweyr out of her mind. There was no use thinking about it now. She had grown up in this climate and she would eventually get used to it again.

"My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'll help you out."

Freija simply nodded and remained silent, thankful that this stranger had taken a liking to her and decided to help. Thinking back, she couldn't believe her luck, really.

_ Upon returning to Skyrim she had been caught up in an Imperial ambush and captured for supposedly being a rebel and bearing an amulet of Talos around her neck. No amount of convincing on her part could stop the Imperial soldiers from ripping away her possessions, forcing her into a rough spun tunic, and loading her on a cart with the rest of the captives. The war had certainly gotten worse in her absence. _

_ There on that damned cart headed for Sovengarde is where Freija met Ralof and Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the rebellion himself. She did her best to ignore her fellow passengers as Ralof conversed with a horse thief, resolved to keep a fixed stare on her bound hands. It had been two days since the ambush and she was in no mood to listen to the thief's whining. _

"Gerdur!"

"Ralof? Is that you?"

Ralof rushed forward to embrace his sister and began speaking in hushed tones. Gerdur demanded to know about what happened to the pair that caused their alarming appearance; tired, gaunt, and covered in dried blood, some of it their own, most of it not. Ralof tried to calm his frantic sister and insisted that they needed somewhere secluded to talk.

Gerdur led the pair away from the town of Riverwood on the other side of the mill where no one would hear them. As Ralof began to recount what happened at Helgen, Freija couldn't help but relive it herself.

"_Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."_

_ "Forget the list. She goes to the block."_

_ "By your orders, captain. I'm sorry… at least you'll die here in your homeland."_

_ The anger that had been simmering under Freija's skin exploded into a full blown boiling rage. Who the hell did these Legionnaires think they were? Who gave these Empire lackeys the authority to send the innocent to their death, without a trial no less? _

_ "Follow the captain, prisoner."_

_ Freija sneered at the man and spat at his feet before brushing past the captain to join the Stormcloak soldiers standing before the headsman. The notion of escape tugged again at the edges of her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She wouldn't end up like that horse thief. _

_ 'There is no honor in dying with an arrow in your back.'_

_ Those words from her past echoed in her mind and she became resolved to face her death with dignity, shoulders back and head held high. She wouldn't run away. She wasn't raised to be a coward. _

_ "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war and plunged Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace."_

_ A roar sounded in the distance, causing Freija and everyone else to look to the sky._

_ "What was that?"_

_ "It's nothing. Carry on."_

_ "Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites." _

_ "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you. May-"_

_ Stepping forward to the block, a red headed Stormcloak soldier cut off the priestess before she could go any further._

"_For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with."_

_ "As you wish," she replied with pursed lips. _

_ "Come on! I haven't got all morning! My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"_

_ Freija watched unflinchingly as the headsman's axe swung down to meet the red haired man, effectively sending him to Sovengarde. _

_ "As fearless in death as he was in life," murmured the man who called himself Ralof._

_ "Next, the Nord in the rags."_

_ The roar sounded again, closer and louder this time._

_ "There it is again. Did you hear that?"_

_ "I said, next prisoner!" _

_ "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."_

_ Freija glared daggers at the Legion soldier, but she nevertheless stepped forward towards the headsman's block where she was brutally forced down by the captain. Lying in the blood of the man who was slain before her, she kept her steely gaze locked onto the headsman, making eye contact as he raised his axe for the second time. _

_ Her eyes that had previously shown no fear widened in horror as she saw a large, black, and supposedly legendary dragon land heavily atop the tower behind the headsman. The dragon let out a deafening roar that caused the headsman to stumble and Freija's vision to blur. She had to move. Now. She struggled to her feet, and blindly tried to follow the voice calling out to her._

_ "Hey, kinsman! Come on! The gods won't give us another chance! This way!"_

_ She ran as best as she could behind the Stormcloak that had called to her and they made their way into a watchtower. Once her vision cleared, she was able to identify the owner of the voice as Ralof. He was leaning against the door and was panting heavily._

_ "Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"_

_ Removing the gag that had been placed over his mouth, Ulfric Stormcloak turned to look at Ralof._

_ "Legends don't burn down villages."_

_ Skyrim really had gone to hell while she was away._

* * *

A/N: Hi, this fanfic will be focused on Freija (pronounced Freya) our Nord Dragonborn. It will be pretty cannon with both dialogue from the game as well as entirely new dialogue. This chapter was more of an introduction, and Freija's real adventure starts in chapter two, which I hope that you'll stick around for. This story will probably not exceed 20 chapters and I intend on making each chapter around 1000 words. Leave a review or drop me a pm, I would love to know what you guys think. :)

Love,

NettleBat


	2. Chapter 2

Freija stretched and sighed contentedly as she awoke to the smell of food. Sitting up slowly, she took in her surroundings; it was a cozy little house, warm and inviting. Freija glanced down at Ralof's sleeping form still cuddled into the blankets of the bed they shared and shook her head. She didn't know how she was able to get any sleep with the volume of his erratic snoring.

"Ah, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

"Wonderfully. I don't remember the last time I slept in a real bed. Thank you."

Gerdur, Divines bless her, had graciously opened her home to Freija, allowing her to catch up on some much needed rest. Granted, she had to share a bed with a man that snored like a bear.

Freija swung her legs out and gingerly got to her feet, and stretching her still sore muscles again, she walked over to join Gerdur at the cooking pot.

"That smells delicious, Gerdur. You really didn't need to all of this."

"You saved my brother's life. It's the least I can do for you," Gerdur said with a gentle smile.

Freija returned the gesture and was made to sit down at the table as Gerdur placed a steaming bowl of apple cabbage stew in front of her. The smell of the stew eventually stirred Ralof from his sleep and he stumbled his way over to the table as well.

"You should really think about joining up with the Stormcloaks, the true children of Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire. Skyrim needs someone like you."

Freija slowly finished chewing her bite of stew and swallowed before answering.

"I don't know about that, Ralof. What the Empire has done is undoubtedly inexcusable, but I don't really like getting in the middle of these kinds of things. It's a civil war and I haven't been in Skyrim for years. I somehow feel that it isn't my place to get involved."

"I see… Well, if you change your mind, head to Windhelm. Speak to Ulfric Stormcloak."

And with that Ralof rose to his feet and headed downstairs to prepare for the day.

Freija smiled as the sunlight glinted and gleamed off of her newly purchased great sword. This was unquestionably her weapon of choice. It dealt significant damage, but wasn't so heavy as to hinder her ability to swing it at a decent speed. Alvor, Riverwood's blacksmith, chuckled heartily at the obvious joy that graced the young woman's face as she examined his handiwork.

"Fond of it, are you?"

"Very much so, sir. It's beautiful craftsmanship. Well-balanced."

"Anything else that you'll be needing to purchase while you're here in Riverwood?"

"Yes, actually. I'd like to take a look at your heavy armor selection. This cuirass feels too flimsy."

After counting out the gold she had made from selling Alvor some salvaged Imperial armor, Freija purchased a set of steel armor, relishing in its comforting weight and the security that it brought her. On her way out of town, Freija decided to stop by the Riverwood mill to say her farewells and give her final thanks to Gerdur.

"Gerdur!" Freija called out upon approaching the mill, "I'm heading out."

"Oh! I'll be right down!" Gerdur peeled off her work gloves and mopped her brow with a nearby rag before joining Freija at the water's edge. "Listen, I'm sorry, but I have a favor to ask of you."

"Nonsense. Anything for you, Gerdur. I'm in your debt."

"Would you mind heading to Whiterun? Jarl Balgruuf has to know that there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless."

"Of course. As a matter of fact, I was headed there anyways. It's where I grew up."

At this, Gerdur's face broke out into a wide smile. "Oh that's good then. I'm glad that it won't be too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. Thank you, Gerdur, for everything that you've done for me."

"Talos guide you on your travels."

Night had fallen by the time Freija rounded the bend overlooking the outskirts of Whiterun. Her journey had been fairly low key, only running into some wolves here and there, but she was nevertheless relieved to be upon her destination, her home that she hadn't seen in years. She breathed in the cool night air and gazed up at the glimmering sky before continuing down the path. As she drew closer to Pelagia Farm, she became aware of a fight that had broken out. Drawing her great sword from her back, she ran towards the shouts and clashing of weapons. She could then see that three armored warriors were engaged in combat with a lone giant in the fields of the farm. Jumping over the fence and brandishing her sword, Freija came to their aid. She alternately lashed out at the giant and dodged its devastating blows, and the four of them together brought the giant down to its knees.

Before the giant could struggle back to his feet, Freija rushed forward and viciously sank her sword up to the hilt into the giant's chest. She watched and felt as the giant's warm lifeblood poured out from the wound and coated her hands and face. The giant breathed its last and fell heavily to its side, its blood soaking into the earth beneath it. Freija wiped the giant's blood from her face and spat the metallic taste from her mouth before yanking her sword out of the corpse of the fallen giant.

She walked over and knelt down next to the giant's head and reached out to gently close its glassy eyes. Upon standing up she became aware that the other warriors were quietly observing her. Turning around to face them, she took in their appearances; on the left, there was a red-haired Nord woman with bold face paint and a proud posture, in the center stood a smaller, younger Imperial woman with dark hair, and lastly there stood a hulking Nord man with familiar silver eyes.

"Farkas?"

"Who's asking?"

"Farkas, it's me."

"…Freija? I'll be damned. It's been, what, four years? Remind me, where in Oblivion did you disappear off to, again?"

"Nearly five. I've been in Elsweyr. I'd decided that it was about time for me to return home." Freija smiled to herself has she further examined her old acquaintance. He had certainly bulked in size since the last time she saw him as a scrawny teenager. She used to be confident that she could, quite frankly, beat the shit out of him, but now she wasn't so sure. She was interrupted from her musings when the red-head on the end spoke up.

"Hey icebrain, if you're done reminiscing about the past, would you care to introduce us to your friend here?"

"Oh right. Freija, this here is Ria," he said as he gestured to the Imperial girl by his side, who gave a wave and a wide grin. "And the loudmouth over there is Aela," who at that gave an indelicate snort. "Shield-sisters, this is Freija. She grew up in Whiterun with me and Vilkas."

"Vilkas and I."

"Whatever, Aela."

Her smile growing, Freija turned to the women and greeted them. "It's a pleasure to meet the two of you. Your combat skills are quite impressive."

Aela simply stared at her for a second before looking over at Farkas. "I like her. She's a fierce fighter. Seems smart, too. Are you sure you two know each other?"

"Very funny."

And with that, the four of them began walking to the gates of Whiterun, chatting and bickering the whole way.

* * *

A/N: Well, there's chapter two. We're starting to get into more original content now. Yay. Let me know if you like the direction that this is heading in.

Oh and I forgot to mention a disclaimer in the last chapter, so here I go:

I don't own Skyrim or it's content in any way, shape, or form. Bethesda does. But you probably already knew that, right?

Love,

NettleBat


End file.
